


she says she doesn't love me (don't believe her)

by louistomlinsons



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Fingerfucking, Gay Panic, Genderswap, Grinding, Multi, another coffee shop AU, but make it lesbian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 10:43:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17599802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louistomlinsons/pseuds/louistomlinsons
Summary: Harry is a disaster gay who works in a coffee shop and Louis doesn't want to admit she's in love.





	she says she doesn't love me (don't believe her)

**Author's Note:**

> I guess I wrote this for a prompt, but it was mostly self-indulgent. Please either come request a prompt at [justgirly1dthings](http://justgirly1dthings.tumblr.com/) or be my friend at [microlouis](http://microlouis.tumblr.com/) otherwise I’m going to start writing a whole bunch of indulgent fics and nobody will be able to stop me.

Harry isn’t sure why she agreed to work a double today. Well, she does know, actually, but now she regrets it more than any other decision she’s ever made. She’s not even being dramatic, this was really a bad idea. She mentally makes a note to never agree to cover for Zayn again, no matter how much he bats his eyelashes. It’s definitely not worth the extra cash.

It’s the first week back for classes, so everyone is stopping in to either get a head start before they get hounded with work or they’re grabbing coffee with friends. Once Harry quits this job, she will never suggest coming to a coffee shop to grab coffee with friends again. She knows now what hell it causes on the workers.

She’s only got an hour left in her shift, but she’s not sure if she’ll make it. They’ve been beaten to death with large orders for frappuccinos and lattes, and Harry would be fine if she never had to make either ever again. People should just order, like, black coffee or something. That would just make her life so much easier.

The shop has finally slowed down enough that Harry can begin cleaning the equipment and wiping down counters. She’s always amazed at how much of a disaster the place can look like after a huge rush. The day’s just been one huge rush, so of course the whole shop is a mess. The trash is overflowing and there’s coffee spilled _everywhere,_ and Harry just wants to cry. Zayn owes her big time. Harry begins thinking about what she’ll ask for in return for covering this shift.

Harry is busy wiping down a counter, hoping someone will take out the trash before she’s done so she doesn’t have to do that, when the bell above the doorway rings, signaling someone has entered the shop. She’s so close to freedom, she thought she’d be able to get out without making another latte. No such luck.

Looking up to see who has entered, Harry wonders who could possibly want caffeine this late in the evening? Reasonably, Harry knows people come in this late to do work or read, but most of them actually get a drink. She’s definitely not the type of person who can drink caffeine after three in the afternoon; it’ll only serve to give her jitters and keep her up all night. It’s funny how a cup of coffee in the morning does nothing but keep caffeine headaches away, but a cup in the afternoon will have her up until the following morning. The world is cruel.

A small girl with long, brown hair past her shoulders is standing at the register, squinting up at the menu board. Harry takes a moment to take in how cute the girl standing before her is, eyes squinted almost shut as she tries to read the board. She can barely make out that the girl’s eyes are a startling shade of blue.

“Can I answer any questions for you?” Harry asks, watching as the girl flicks her eyes away from the board and towards Harry. “I can recommend my favorites, if you want.”

The girl smiles brightly, taking over her whole face. “I would love that,” she answers earnestly. “I’m a tea girl, myself, so if you’ve got recommendations for that, that would be ace.”

“We’ve got a nice decaf tea, if you don’t want to be up all night,” Harry suggests, tapping her fingers against the counter as she thinks about her favorites that they have. “We also have a really good lavender tea. We just got it in, but it’s quickly becoming my favorite.”

The girl seems to think this over, biting her lip and scrunching up her nose adorably. Harry definitely believes in love at first sight. “I think I might try that lavender tea. If it’s shit, I’m coming after you.”

Harry giggles before she can stop herself. It’s more of a honk than a giggle, really. The girl doesn’t seem phased by it, instead giggling alongside Harry, although her giggles are much cuter.

“Can I get a name?” Harry asks, grabbing for the marker they keep right by the counter.

“Just any old name?” the girl teases, mischievous glint in her eyes. Harry can already tell this girl is a handful.

“I suppose, if you don’t want to give me your name,” Harry answers, grabbing the cup with the hand not holding the marker. “Just gotta have something to call out and you gotta be able to know it’s yours. Wouldn’t want you to not get your tea.”

“Just put down Lou,” the girl, _Lou_ , says easily. “I should answer to that.”

“Hmm, Lou.” Harry scribbles the name on the cup. She hadn’t even needed to get the girl’s name – there’s no one else in the shop. “Suits you. Gonna be a real shame if that turns out not to be your name.”

Lou throws her head back and laughs, sound filling up the whole place. Harry knows she’s in love.

*

It’s been a week since Harry met Lou in the coffee shop and Liam is already sick of hearing about her. Harry didn’t even think she’d been going on that much about Louis’ jawline before Liam had brought it up.

“Mate, I will literally pierce my own eardrums if you mention Lou one more time,” Liam says, kidding. Harry doesn’t think he’d actually do it. Probably.

Harry sighs, dejected. “I just can’t believe all I have is a name. She’s out there being my future wife, my _soulmate_ , and she doesn’t even know it.”

“Bet you fifty dollars she is not this hung up on you,” Zayn says, clicking his pen. Zayn’s always been a bit of a dickhead. Harry tells him as much, continuing to pout. “I’m just saying. She didn’t stick around once she got her tea. She’s probably straight.”

“Everybody’s a little gay,” Harry tries to argue. She knows it’s hopeless. It’s a large campus. She’s never seen Lou before, and she’ll probably never see her again. It’s science, or something.

“I’m not,” Liam chips in, ever so helpful. He’s also a dirty fucking liar.

Harry snorts. Zayn looks offended.

“Liam, I know you and Zayn exchanged handjobs at Perrie’s party two months ago and have been shagging ever since. Please do not insult my intelligence.” Harry throws a pencil, aiming for Liam’s gaping mouth.

“That doesn’t make me gay,” Liam says, defensive as ever. Harry isn’t sure what he’s trying to fight here.

“I didn’t say that,” Harry responds. “I said that everybody’s a little gay. You and Zayn having sex makes you at least a little bit gay. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Liam doesn’t have anything to say. He just ignores Harry and goes back to highlighting his textbook. Zayn rubs comforting circles on his back. Harry wonders if they’re doing a little bit more than having sex. Liam doesn’t seem like the casual type, anyway.

“Now, can we please go back to talking about Lou?”

Harry gets her pencil thrown back at her by Zayn before Liam promptly attempts to stab his own eardrums with his highlighter.

*

Harry sees Lou again exactly three days after her last conversation with Liam and Zayn _about_ Lou. Once again, Harry has been talked into covering Zayn’s shift and working a double. She’s beginning to suspect that she’s covering his shifts so that he and Liam can go on dates. She doesn’t know what else Zayn could be doing with his time.

She’s not even pretending to actually do her job. Instead, she’s biting the end of her pencil as she tries to figure out if she really has the time to be applying to be president of the feminist club on campus. She probably doesn’t, but that’s not going to stop her. Harry has a problem of overscheduling herself, is all. It’ll give her a good excuse for not taking Zayn’s shifts anymore, at the very least.

Harry’s so focused she doesn’t even notice anyone walking up to the counter. It’s a Friday night, so they’ve been dead for about three hours now, since nobody’s coming in to do homework on a Friday. There’s much better things to be doing.

The person that has walked up finally clears their throat and Harry looks up. She’s delighted to find Lou standing there, looking a perfect mixture of annoyed and fond. Harry loves it.

“Oh, sorry,” Harry apologizes, setting down her pencil and shoving her papers over. “I was lost in thought.”

“I could tell.” Lou smiles softly, all traces of annoyance gone from her face. “That tea you gave me last time was delicious. Thank you for the recommendation. I just had to come back for more.”

Harry _beams_ at that. She loves when people come back and tell Harry that they loved what she recommended, but this is something else. This is Lou. This is special. Harry might be moving too fast, but she can’t stop herself. “Glad you liked it.”

Harry’s not sure how long they spend standing there, just smiling at each other, before Lou clears her throat awkwardly and breaks eye contact. Harry can’t seem to stop staring, though.

“Can I get two cups this time?” Lou asks, pulling out her card from the case on the back of her phone. Harry wonders if they all fall out every time she drops her phone.

“Loved it that much?” Harry teases, grabbing two cups and writing _Lou_ on both of them in loopy letters. Once again, she doesn’t really need to write Lou’s name out, considering she’s the one making the drinks and no one is in the shop with them.

Lou giggles quietly, a lovely high-pitched sound that Harry could listen to forever, clichés be damned. “No, it was lovely, but I’m going to bring some back for my…friend.”

Harry doesn’t like what Lou’s implying with her tone.

“Oh, a friend?” Harry asks, hoping Lou will elaborate. She prepares the two teas, not turning back around to look at Lou. She doesn’t want Lou to be able to read her facial expression. Her disappointment is probably written all over her face. The good ones are always fucking straight.

“Yeah, you know the type.” There’s something tight in Lou’s voice, something uneasy. Harry can’t quite put her finger on what it is, but before she can think too much about it, the two cups of tea are done. She spins around and hands them both to Lou, smiling as casually as she can while her heart is shattering to pieces. Lou thanks her, heading out the door, pausing before she exits. “By the way, I guess I should tell you. My full name is Louis. Have a nice night.”

_Louis._

*

“Harry, she’s straight.” Liam is always raining on Harry’s parades, calling himself “the voice of reason.” He’s not the voice of reason, he’s just a dick.

Harry tells him so.

“You can’t be mad that I’m trying to stop you from getting your heart broken,” Liam says, but that’s not doing him any favors. Harry still thinks he’s a dick.

“I can’t believe I’ve found the love of my life and you don’t believe in me,” Harry says instead of calling Liam a dick again.

“Love of your life? You’ve said like five words to her.” Harry doesn’t need this today. All she wanted to do was come home and binge watch dumb romantic comedies with her best friends. “I don’t mean to be the person who puts a damper on your party, but maybe you only fall in love with straight girls because you’re afraid of actually falling in love and being in a relationship.”

Harry sputters dramatically. “Are you serious? You think I _intentionally_ develop crushes on girls who will never like me back? You really are a dick and I regret ever being sorry about calling you that.” Harry isn’t really all that mad; she knows he’s a little bit right. That doesn’t stop her from getting up from their couch and making a dramatic exit to her room, though. She loves theatrics.

Harry hears Liam calling after her, not sounding the least bit sorry. She closes her door and slides down to the floor. Liam has made several good points. Harry _is_ afraid of being in a relationship. It’s a little bit of a terrifying idea to become vulnerable like that again. Liam is wrong in the idea that Harry is intentionally falling in love with straight girls, though. They’re just Harry’s type, she can’t help it. If she could find a nice lesbian, or bi girl, she would. She’s just having no such luck.

Oh. Maybe Louis is bi. She hadn’t even thought about that.

She bursts out through her door, all but running down the hallway to their living room. Liam is still chewing his popcorn and watching _Sleeping with Other People_. Nice to see that he cares so much about Harry’s feelings.

“Louis could be bisexual.”

Liam doesn’t even turn around. “I thought we were going to move past this.” He sounds defeated, sighing heavily. Harry doesn’t stand around and wait for him to rain on her parade any more. She just goes back to her room, thinking of ways of finding out Louis’ last name. She can’t keep leaving their meetings up to chance.

*

Unfortunately, Harry has to leave their meetings up to chance. Other than finding out that “Lou” was just a nickname for “Louis,” Harry has no other leads. Louis doesn’t even come back into the coffee shop for two more weeks. By the time she stops in again, Harry has all but given up hope.

Harry had thought about giving her shift away to Zayn, who is suddenly in desperate need of money after giving all of his shifts away to Harry, but had decided not to last minute. She wanted to make a little extra cash to treat herself to some new shoes. She’s gone and worn her favorite pair of boots until a hole developed in both toes. She was going to keep on wearing them, but Liam made her throw them out, saying it was for the best.

When Louis walks in, cheeks adorably pink and hair tangled from the wind, Harry has never been more thankful for actually being at work in her life. This time, Harry actually notices her walk in and greets her with a wide smile.

“Hey, Lou,” Harry says, hoping she doesn’t sound too eager. She probably does. Louis notices Harry and returns her smile, face warming up.

“Hey,” Louis whispers. Her voice is raspy and it’s obvious she’s losing it, probably coming down with some cold. “I need some tea. Losing my voice, and all that.”

Harry hums quietly, thinking about what kind of tea would be best to offer Louis. “Do you mind if I make you some green tea with honey? It’ll soothe your throat.”

Louis’ face softens. “That would be so lovely. I know this is awkward to ask, and all, but. I’ve come in here a couple times now, and it seems unfair that you know my name and I don’t know yours.”

Harry pauses as she pours a good portion of honey into the cup. “Oh! Yeah, I’m really bad at remembering my name tag. My name’s Harry.” She sets down the jar of honey and goes on preparing the cup of tea for Louis. She hadn’t even realized her nametag wasn’t stuck to her apron any longer.

“Hmm, kind of an interesting name for a girl, innit?” Louis asks, though there’s no tone of judgement in her voice. Harry is used to this. It _is_ an unusual name for a girl.

“My parents wanted me to be a boy,” Harry answers simply. Louis snorts quietly at that. “No, I’m just messing. It’s short for Harriet, and all that, but I just like Harry better. Seems less formal. Though you’re one to talk. Your name’s Louis!”

Louis full on laughs at this, head thrown back, hair cascading down her back. It’s raw and raspy and sounds mildly painful, but also like she can’t help herself. “That’s true. My name is Louis. Except like you, it’s short for Louise. I was just too tomboyish as a child. My mom said it didn’t suit me. Started calling me ‘Lou’ and ‘Louis’ and it just kind of stuck.” She shrugs, accepting the cup from Harry’s outstretched hand. Harry has to fight back a shiver as their fingertips brush each other. It’s starting to get pathetic, her little crush on Louis.

“I think it suits you,” Harry whispers quietly, a weird bubble forming around them. She worries she’ll burst it if she speaks any louder, like she might scare Louis off or something.

In the end, their bubble is busted when Liam comes bursting through the door, bell ringing almost angrily. He looks tense, eyebrows furrowed and every move aggressive. Harry has no idea what this could mean.

“Liam?” Harry asks timidly.

“Hey, Liam, how’s it going?” comes Louis from across the counter. Harry almost snaps her neck to look at her. She knows Liam?

“Not very well, I would say,” Liam answers, slamming his hands on the counter, causing both girls to jump. “Harry, when do you get off? I need a girl’s night.”

Liam and Zayn only ask for girl’s night when they’re seriously upset, Harry has learned. Harry asks for them all the time. She’s not ashamed.

Deciding that Liam is not in the best state of mind to be quizzed about how he knows Louis, and why he’s so obviously been keeping it a secret from her, Harry just nods instead. “Yeah, of course. I’m off in like forty-five minutes. I’ll pick up Chinese on the way home. Does that work?”

Liam’s shoulders slump. “Yes, that works just fine. Be home as quickly as you can, please.” He leaves without saying another word.

Louis breaks the silence that falls upon them after Liam’s abrupt entrance and then exit. “You know Liam?”

“Yes,” Harry responds, restocking the napkins absentmindedly. “He’s my roommate. He’s also shagging my best friend. _You_ know Liam?”

Louis nods slowly, eyes narrowing into slits. “He’s shagging _my_ best friend.”

“Who?” Harry wonders how many people Liam could possibly be shagging. He’s not that good looking and his game sucks. He doesn’t even know how to flirt.

“His name’s Zayn.”

Harry chokes on her own spit. This is not happening. Both of her best friends knew who Louis was, were _best friends with her_ , and weren’t even going to tell Harry. They were going to let her just hopelessly be in love and pine. Dickheads. Harry doesn’t even feel bad any more.

“You’re kidding.”

“No, mate, can’t say I am kidding.” Louis is looking at Harry like she’s grown a third eyeball. Maybe she has. The world’s a crazy place today. Harry wouldn’t be surprised by anything at this point.

“Zayn’s my best friend.” Harry isn’t sure if she’s more upset at the idea that Zayn has other best friends or that he’s been lying to her. She might be equally upset at both. “How long have you known him?”

“We had classes together our first year, it’s been love at first sight since then,” Louis answers, eyes narrowing. “Are you going to try and say you’re a better friend of Zayn’s? I’m not doing this today, Harold.”

“ _Hey_ ,” Harry says, voice deep and slow. “You know my name’s not Harold.”

Louis shrugs, taking a sip of her tea. She hisses as it burns her tongue. Serves her right. (Harry regrets thinking that almost immediately). “Harold suits you. It’s a lovely name.”

Harry sighs, defeated. “Whatever you say, Lou.” She’s run out of things to restock and wipe down. “Do you know what that might be about, then?”

Louis shakes her head, trying for another sip of her tea. It burns her once again, and Harry can’t help but laugh. “No idea. I bet you five dollars it has something to do with Zayn and Liam’s inevitable gay panic.”

“You think?” Harry doesn’t disagree.

“Yes, I really think so,” Louis responds. She takes a third sip of her tea, this time not wincing. “Also, it has been lovely, actually. No sarcasm there. But I have to go. I’m meeting my friend again.” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. Harry’s heart falls down to her stomach. “Have a nice night, dearest Harold. I will miss you until our next meeting.”

Harry doesn’t even get the chance to respond before Louis is gone again.

*

“Liam, you like men, that’s totally fine, no big deal,” Harry is assuring him. He’s been in a panic since she arrived home thirty minutes ago. Harry isn’t even sure what else to say. She’s said all the normal “it’s okay to be gay” things. She’s running out of material.

“How did you realize you were gay?” Liam asks. Before Harry can respond, he continues on, “What if I’m not gay? What if Zayn is just so beautiful that I _think_ I’m gay, but I’m not actually? I’m sure that’s a real thing. It’s probably happened.”

Harry sighs, puffing out her cheeks and raising her eyebrows. She is not prepared to deal with this. She’d never had a gay panic. She’d just _been gay_.

“I guess that could be a thing,” Harry starts. “But maybe you’re just bisexual. You don’t have to be gay. It could be like one percent you’re into men and ninety-nine percent you’re into women. That one percent could basically be Zayn and then, like, super-hot guys that everyone would bang no matter what. Like David Beckham, or something.”

Liam’s shoulders relax, finally releasing his death grip on Harry’s favorite yellow throw pillow. It’s got tassels. Harry would die if something happened to it.

“You could be right,” Liam agrees. Harry makes a humming noise. She’s not sure how much she has actually helped, but she’ll take compliments where she can get them. “I’m just being dumb. I know there’s nothing wrong with being gay. I think I’m just afraid I’ll fuck it all up with Zayn.”

Harry lays a hand gently on his shoulder, making direct eye contact. “As you should. Zayn is way out of your league.”

Liam swats her with the pillow, repeatedly until Harry is crying for mercy for her favorite pillow. “If you won’t spare me, spare the pillow!” Liam gives her one more whack before pulling her in for a cuddle, his arms tight around her shoulders.

“Thank you, Haz,” he whispers into her hair, planting a soft kiss there. “You’re a good friend, most of the time.”

Harry picks this moment to remember that Liam has known who Louis is for a bit of time now. “Well, you’re not a good friend, you dirty bastard.”

Liam obviously does not expect this. He unwraps his arms from around Harry, pulling away and looking upset. “What could I possibly have done this time?”

“You fucking knew who Louis was? How many girl Louis are there, Liam? Not a whole lot!” Harry stands up, waving her arms around as she paces in front of the coffee table. “You didn’t want to say anything? That’s why you’re a horrible friend and I’m writing you out of my will.”

Liam rolls his eyes. “You’re overreacting.”

“You don’t get to tell me that.” Harry points an accusatory finger Liam’s way. “Men are always telling women they’re overreacting, but I am reacting accordingly!”

“Harry.” Liam sighs, titling his head as he stares into Harry’s eyes. “That is not what this is about. This is not me thinking you’re a crazy woman. This is me thinking that my best friend, who I love very much, is a total nutjob.”

“Hmmph,” Harry grunts, crossing her arms, pausing her pacing. “Okay, go on. Explain yourself.”

Liam shrugs, casually, as if he hasn’t just betrayed Harry’s trust. She’ll never forgive him, probably. “Louis’s straight. That’s literally all there is to it. Zayn and I didn’t want you to get your heart broken.”

“What do you and Zayn know about love? Bunch of idiots,” Harry huffs. She finally sits down on the couch, letting herself be pulled into a hug. “You thought you were straight until, like, ten minutes ago.”

“That is true,” Liam says with a chuckle. Harry is having a hard time finding the amusement in the situation. “I guess it was wrong of us to keep you from your true love. I can send you Louis’ number if you want?”

Harry nods against Liam’s shoulder. “I would love that. It’s the least you can do.”

Harry feels Liam’s rumbling laugh rather than hears it. “If it all works out for you, I’ll plan your wedding.”

“Now you’re talking.” Harry can’t help but giggle, no longer angry at Liam. She’ll probably milk the whole situation for as long as she can, getting him to do some extra chores around their apartment, but she can’t find it in her heart to stay mad. He and Zayn were just looking out for her. She kind of gets it.

“Maybe we should invite Louis and Zayn over sometime,” Liam suggests. “Drink a lot of wine, have a game night.”

“That would be splendid,” Harry agrees. She’s thinking about falling asleep on Liam’s shoulder. Despite being so muscular, he makes a decent pillow.

She’s almost asleep when she decides to mumble, “Wine brings out the gay in people, you know?”

Liam hits her over the head with the throw pillow. Harry deserves it, a little.

*

“ _Liam!_ ” The bloodcurdling scream echoes in their apartment. Harry wonders if their neighbors are ever going to file a noise complaint. They definitely should. “Why would you do this?” She’s standing there, pale as a ghost, in the middle of their kitchen. She’s got flour in her hair from the cookies she had been making, but those are long forgotten now.

“I thought this is what you wanted!” Liam protests. “You wanted me to invite Louis and Zayn over for game night!”

“Yes,” Harry says slowly, looking at Liam as if he’s grown another head. “I did want that. But I wanted more than thirty minute’s notice!” Sometimes, Liam is too dense to insult. She insults him anyways. “I’ve got flour in my hair! I haven’t done laundry in a week! My only clean pants _were_ these ones!”

“Hmm,” Liam hums. “Well, they’ve got flour on them now.”

“I’m going to end you,” Harry says seriously. The timer for the cookies goes off, but she just ignores it, preferring to death glare are Liam. “You will not live to see tomorrow. Say your goodbyes to Zayn tonight.”

“So merciful,” Liam snorts. He goes over to the oven and turns the timer off, checking to see if the cookies are done. Harry wonders if he actually knows what baked cookies should look like. She’s still not going to help him. He’s gone and ruined her life. “You’re wasting your precious getting ready time by standing here and murdering me with your eyes. You’re quickly running out of time.”

Harry realizes he’s right and takes off sprinting for her room. Unfortunately, she’s wearing socks and their floors are wood, so she goes down, ass first. She hasn’t even had time to collect herself before there’s a knock at the door.

“ _Liam_!” Harry screams from the floor. She’s staring up at the ceiling, cherishing her moments before her life is officially over. “You said they would be here in thirty minutes!”

“I guess they’re early,” comes his reply. Unhelpful.

Just as Harry is deciding she’s never going to get up from the floor, a hand reaches into her vision. It’s too light to be Zayn, but too dark to be Liam.

“You’re on the floor,” Louis states, although not at all confused. “Need a hand up?”

“No,” Harry denies, watching Louis’ hand fall. “I think I’ve decided I’m going to live on this floor from here on out. I’ve been defeated.”

“I guess I’ll join you, then,” Louis says easily, like it’s not troublesome at all to see Harry sprawled out, no intention of going anywhere. She slides down easily next to Harry, both of them laying on their backs. “Not very comfortable, is it? I’m sure there’s a better place to do this.”

“This is just where I’ve landed.”

“Hmm.” Louis scoots closer to Harry. “The floor’s not very warm. Are you _sure_ we can’t move somewhere with blankets? I’d settle for a couch. Or even a rug.”

Harry sighs, pretending to be annoyed. She flashes a smile at Louis to let her know she’s anything but, and then proceeds to sit up. Louis does the same, humor in her eyes.

“We could always join Zayn and Liam,” Harry suggests. She doesn’t actually want to do that. She likes sitting with Louis, just the two of them. It’s nice and easy, just like she imagined it would be. “Have they finally figured their shit out, then?”

Louis nods softly. “I think so.” The amusement slowly creeps out of her face. Harry wants to ask her what’s wrong, but knows that it’s a little too soon in their relationship to be having a heart to heart. If she stays quiet long enough, maybe Louis will just come out and tell her.

No such luck.

Louis stands quickly, dusting off the bottom of her jeans. They’re stretched tight across her curves, and Harry is having a hard time looking away. Finally glancing up, she realizes Louis has caught her staring, head turned slightly, looking down at where Harry is still sitting on the floor. “Are you joining me?” She doesn’t seem mad or grossed out, so Harry takes that as a win.

“Wherever you lead, I’ll follow,” she jokes, but wonders how much truth there is to it. She’s known Louis such a short amount of time, a few visits in a coffee shop and two minutes spent on Harry’s floor, but she’s already so gone. There’s just a pull towards Louis, Harry thinks. Something she can’t quite shake off.

Louis snorts, rolling her eyes, although there’s a smile tugging on the corners of her lips. “Let’s go, you sap.” She leads the way down Harry’s hallway to the living room, already looking so comfortable and like she belongs.

The scene that greets them in the living room is honestly one Harry wishes she could wipe from her memory. Zayn is straddled on Liam’s lap, tongues shoved in one another’s mouths. Harry yells something, indistinguishable underneath the screech Louis lets out.

“We leave you alone for five seconds,” Louis grumbles, crinkling her eyes in disgust as Zayn and Liam detach themselves, Zayn wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He’s smirking as he climbs from Liam’s mouth.

“You would feel the same way if you were in love,” he says simply. “You’re just bitter that Aiden didn’t want to text you back. Neither did Nick. You’re on a losing streak.”

“I did not come here to be made fun of,” Louis mutters, crossing her arms over her chest. Harry wants to pull her in for a hug. She’s not sure how appropriate that is, so she manages to control herself.

“Aw, Lou, you were too good for them anyway,” Liam finally chips in. “Can we find you someone better?” He briefly makes eye contact with Harry, and her heart swells. Maybe she’ll name one of their kids after him. “It wouldn’t be hard.”

Louis can’t help but laugh at that. “You’re right. They’re both kind of dicks. I keep finding these asshole men who say they want to actually date me but are actually only looking for a quick fuck. If that’s what you’re after, fine, but be straight up about it. You don’t need to lie, you know?”

Harry hums in agreement. She does not, in fact, know. She knows next to nothing about dating. She had been on a few dates with a girl named Cara last semester, but it hadn’t gone farther than them hooking up after the third date and then never speaking again. Harry still sees her around campus sometimes, but isn’t sure what the proper etiquette in that situation is, so she always just looks towards the ground until they’ve passed each other.

“Well,” Louis clears her throat. “Now that we’ve all gone and made things as awkward as possible, who wants to play some _Uno_?”

*

Louis kicking all of their asses at _Uno_ quickly becomes their favorite Wednesday night ritual. Harry comes home from work, usually having to break Liam and Zayn apart on the couch, and makes some sort of dinner for the four of them. Louis comes over with a bottle of wine and they all drink wine and play _Uno_ until they’re too tired to go on. It easily becomes Harry’s favorite part of the week.

Louis has also begun to stop into the coffee shop more frequently, demanding Harry give her the perfect tea depending on her mood or how she’s feeling. Harry doesn’t mind being bossed around if Louis is the one doing it.

They easily fall into a routine, the two of them. Louis comes in towards the end of Harry’s shifts and bothers her until it’s time for her to go and then they usually grab dinner at Harry’s place and do homework. Doing homework usually ends up with them rewatching their favorite episode of _FRIENDS_ or talking about their lives. Harry’s favorite thing is listening to Louis talk about her sisters, watching as her face lights up as she tells stories about them.

Harry finds herself spending more time with Louis than without.

Liam also seems to notice.

It’s after their weekly game night, after everyone’s gone and Harry’s a little tipsy from the wine, when Liam brings it up to her. She knows he’s going for casual, but he’s never been very good at being subtle.

“So, you and Lou seem to be spending a great deal of time together,” he says, eyebrows quirking up as he tries to be nonchalant. “How’s that going?” She’d rather be going to bed than having this conversation, but she knows she’s not getting out easily.

“She’s still straight as ever,” Harry sighs, defeated. In the month and a half that they’ve all been hanging out, Louis has gone on a couple of dates, each one ending as horribly as the last one. She’d made a joke last night, when it was just the two of them, that maybe it would just be easier if she liked women. Harry didn’t tell her she agreed.

“Maybe you should try dating,” Liam suggests. Harry snaps her head towards him.

“You know I can’t do that, I’m the worst at dating.” Harry wraps a rubber band around the stack of cards, going to slide them into their miscellaneous items drawer.

“I think you’re afraid of getting hurt.”

“I feel like we’ve had this conversation before.” Harry tries to keep her voice light and airy. She fails.

“I feel like we have this conversation frequently,” Liam counters. “You should put yourself out there. Otherwise you’re going to spend a whole bunch of time pining after Louis and then you’re going to miss out on incredible opportunities to be happy.”

“I am happy!” Harry argues, slamming the drawer shut, more aggressive than intended. “This isn’t about me being sad that Louis is straight. You’re going to have to let that one go. For now, I am content in my friendships. That is enough for me. I get to decide when it’s not enough.”

Harry doesn’t let him reply before she stalks off to her room, throwing herself on her bed. She knows Liam cares about her and that’s the only reason he brings it up, but she always feels so cornered. She doesn’t know why she’s so afraid of putting herself out there, opening herself up to the idea of falling in love.

Part of it is her crush on Louis, growing stronger every day. She may be setting herself up for heartbreak, but she can’t find it in herself to care. She’s okay with whatever it is they’ve got going, no matter how platonic it is. She would rather have Louis around as her friend than not at all.

That’s only, like, a small part of it all. Harry is just afraid. She’s not had the best experience in dating; rejection and unrequited love seeming to be a common theme. Even when she’s gone on dates, they usually end up fizzling out, with Harry being ghosted more frequently than not. She’s woefully inexperienced, and at this point, it feels embarrassing. Cara has basically been her only type of experience, dating and otherwise, up until this point. She’s intimidated by the idea of dating and being inexperienced. She’s content, for now, to be inexperienced and pining after Louis.

She downloads Tinder anyway.

*

Harry has all but forgotten about having downloaded Tinder when she’s hanging out with Louis a few days later. They’re cuddled on Harry’s couch, despite there being plenty of seats to have their own space, when Louis asks if she can have Harry’s phone to take a cute selfie. Harry thinks nothing of it, pulling it out of her pocket and handing it over.

Louis unlocks it with her thumbprint, scrolling through Harry’s phone to find the camera. Harry starts to worry, though, when Louis develops a smirk on her face.

“Harry,” she says slowly. “What’s this? Are you _dating_?” She gasps, feigning shock.

Harry jumps into action, swiping her phone from Louis’ hands. “No!” she protests, feeling her face burn red. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Ooh, someone’s defensive,” Louis laughs, wiggling her eyebrows. “Got some steamy messages?”

Harry rolls her eyes. The only steamy messages Harry has on her phone is the one she sends to Liam about Louis. She always deletes those, though. Louis goes through her phone way too often not to.

“Have you met me?” Harry asks rhetorically. “I’m too awkward for normal conversation, can you imagine me trying to dirty talk?” Harry laughs, throwing her head back and resting it on Louis’ shoulder. She feels Louis tense underneath her and she glances her eyes up, worried. “Lou?”

Louis gives her a tight-lipped smile, not relaxing. “I’m fine. Just remembered a paper I need to turn in by midnight. Sorry, H.” She does look genuinely sorry, so Harry thinks nothing of it, hugging her goodbye and wishing her luck.

When she goes to text Zayn and ask him if he’s busy, Harry finds Tinder still open. It’s not even open to the main page. Instead, it looks like Louis had gone and clicked on some of Harry’s messages. The message open reads, “ _You’re actually kind of funny. Let’s meet for coffee_?” Harry feels a pit form in her stomach but finds herself agreeing anyway, saying when she’s available next and asking if they could get anything other than coffee.

Harry’s become more of a tea girl, anyway.

*

“Harry, you look fine,” Liam assures her, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. He leans his chin on her shoulder, and Harry allows herself to be momentarily comforted. It’s hard to feel nervous when Liam feels so familiar and comforting.

“I know I look fine,” Harry scoffs. “It’s not about that. It’s not, like, a self-confidence issue. I’m just worried that I’ll fuck this up.” She bites her lip, worrying it between her teeth. “I’m not very good at talking to people who aren’t you and Zayn. And I guess Louis. Even that I’m still a little bit horrible at.”

“So, it is a self-confidence issue.” Liam removes his arms from around Harry’s waist, placing them on her shoulders and twirling her around to face him. He’s got a stern look on his face, one that Harry’s learned to recognize she gets right before he’s going to give her a lecture. She sighs, bracing herself for the worst.

Instead, he pulls her in for a tight hug.

Liam rubs the palms of his hands along her back, holding her close as he says, “I love you. No matter how dumb or goofy or insecure you are.”

Harry buries her face into her neck, worries momentarily gone from her mind. “I wish I was into men. We’d be such a good couple.”

She feels him chuckle, air blowing out against her skin. He pulls away, still holding onto her shoulders. He’s smiling, now; less intimidating. “We’d be too powerful and that’s the only reason we can’t be a couple. The world wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

Harry nods, face serious as she tries to contain her laughter. “You have never been more right in your entire life. Never.”

Liam flicks her in the nose and spins her once more, shoving her in the direction of the door. “Be gone! You’re going to be late. Don’t come back until you’ve got good news for me.”

Harry starts walking towards the door, only pausing to turn around and ask, “What if I don’t have good news? What if it goes awful?”

Liam shrugs. “We’ll find the positive in it. And get drunk.”

Harry decides this is good enough and finally leaves, hoping for the best but expecting the worst.

The worst is what she gets.

Her date had shown up twenty minutes late, long enough that the servers had started to give Harry pitying looks and had offered her a free glass of wine. She’d been sipping it when her date finally showed up, not even making any excuses for herself.

She had also forgotten Harry’s name, calling her _Sarah_ or something else like that. Harry isn’t under the impression that she’s the only person her date would be talking to on Tinder, or even meeting up with tonight, but she would expect that she would at least know Harry’s name. It’s on the app, and it’s not like Harry is a common name, easy to get mixed up.

Conversation had been stilted the whole time, Harry having to do most of the talking. By the time the check rolls around, Harry offers to pay for it just to get out of there as soon as she can. Her date pretends to argue, but doesn’t actually press the issue, seeming as antsy to get out of there as Harry.

When they leave, she doesn’t even bother with sending Harry a goodbye. She simply grabs her purse and stands, saying nothing more. She doesn’t even offer a wave.

Harry isn’t necessarily hurt that the date hadn’t gone well, not having much of a strong connection with a person she’d had a short Tinder conversation and a horrible date with. She is, however, disappointed to see that her attempts at dating are not getting any better. They may even be getting worse.

Leaving the restaurant, she sighs and debates whether she actually wants to meet up with Liam. He had been going to a bar with Zayn, Harry, and their other friend Niall. They knew him from their psych class, or something. They swore up and down that he was a good time to be around, but.

Liam _had_ said to join them if the date had gone poorly, but Harry didn’t know if she was too up to it. She didn’t really want to be around Zayn and Liam being the cutest, most touchy-feely couple in the world and someone she had never even met. And Louis. She definitely wasn’t sure if she was up to be around Louis.

As if her feet aren’t listening to her head, Harry finds herself walking towards the bar. Cursing to herself, she resigns to her fate for the night. Maybe she’ll have fun. Maybe being around her best friends (and Niall) will help her feel better. It only takes her about five minutes to walk there, so she doesn’t have much time to dwell on it and put herself in a worse mood.

Walking in, Harry doesn’t even have to look for them. They’re the loudest group in the room. The bar’s small and cozy, a familiar atmosphere. It’s not one of the more popular bars on campus. She takes a deep breath, preparing herself, and walks across the room to join them.

Zayn and Liam break into cheers as she approaches the table, sliding in next to Harry. She smiles politely at the brunette seated on the other side of Harry. He looks nice enough, she decides, eyeing him up. Nonthreatening.

Louis throws an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in tightly. “How’d the date go?”

Harry can tell by the slur of her words that Louis is drunk. She’s well past tipsy, cheeks flaming and skin damp with sweat. Normally, Harry has a low tolerance for drunk people, but finds it more endearing on Louis. She wonders if she’s ever seen Louis _drunk_ , even after all of their wine nights. Tipsy, sure, but never drunk like she is now.

Drunk Louis also seems to hate personal space more than sober Louis does.

Harry grabs the pitcher of beer from in front of her, taking a sip. She curls her lip and wrinkles her nose as she does it. She’s always thought that beer tasted more like water that someone pissed in than anything else.

“That bad?” Niall asks, taking a sip of his own beer. He’s gone and got himself a bottle, though. Harry wonders if it tastes any better.

“Yes,” she answers. “That bad. She didn’t even _know my name_.”

Everyone at the table winces at that, sympathetic looks in their eyes.

“Let me buy you some shots, yeah?” Liam suggests. “Are you in a rum or tequila mood tonight?”

“Tequila!” Louis answers for her, perking up and pulling Harry even tighter. Eventually she’s going to be pulling on Harry so tight she won’t be able to breathe. “Tequila’s my favorite.”

Harry chuckles, smiling fondly at the girl next to her. She feels like she can be more careless with her stares and hiding her fondness, with Louis probably being less attentive due to the alcohol. “You heard the girl, let’s get some tequila up in here!”

Louis cheers, removing her arm from Harry’s shoulders and throwing her hands up. She turns to Harry, face going surprisingly serious compared to just moments before. “This is why you’re my favorite. This is it. You have overtaken Zayn as my best friend. Don’t tell him, though.”

Harry mimes zipping her lips and throwing away the key. “I wouldn’t dare.” She doesn’t break eye contact with Louis as she says it, and it feels like they’re in their own little bubble, safe from the bar. The spell is broken, however, when Liam slams four shots down in front of them.

“Two for each of you, and then you’re buying the rest yourselves,” he says firmly. Harry doesn’t believe him for a second. Liam always buys all of her drinks, it’s just how it works.

Louis’ face lights up again as she eyes the shots in front of them. “Shall we?” Her eyes are glazed over, but amusement dances in them. Harry is mildly afraid of what getting drunk with Louis entails. She wonders if they’ll end up arrested.

Nodding, Harry downs both shots, one right after the other. She winces and shudders, closing her eyes, always hating tequila. She’s definitely more of a fruity drink kind of girl. When she’s able to open her eyes again, she sees that Louis has also taken both of her shots. She’s seems to have handled it moderately better.

Louis blinks slowly, lips swollen and red. Harry thinks that maybe doing shots with Louis is an incredibly bad idea.

Before she can overthink it, Louis pushes her out of the booth without warning. “Let’s go, H, time to dance.” Harry stumbles, but follows.

She’d probably (definitely) follow Louis anywhere she wanted to go.

Despite definitely being drunk, Louis is steady on her feet. She walks confidently to where a dance floor would be if this were the type of bar where people danced and presses her back against Harry’s front.

Harry hadn’t been expecting that, stuttering in her movements. Louis either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, reaching her hands back behind her and tangling them in Harry’s hair, moving her hips. After a moment, Harry follows suit, moving her hips in time with Louis.

It’s messy and uncoordinated, Louis drunk and Harry feeling warm from the two shots she’s had. She’s not quite tipsy yet, but she’s looser than if she’d had nothing to drink at all.

Harry can’t help but lose herself in their movements, breathing into Louis’ neck as she pulls on Harry’s hair. Harry’s hair has always been her weakness, and she has to fight back her gasps. She doubts Louis is drunk enough to not notice that.

She isn’t sure how long they dance, grinding and sweating against each other. Harry has been tracing her hands up and down Louis’ sides, but Louis hasn’t let her hands falter from Harry’s hair. Maybe minutes or hours later, Liam is tapping on Harry’s shoulder.

She detangles Louis’ hands from her hair and shifts slightly to look at him. He seems uncomfortable, moving his weight from foot to foot. Louis stills her motions, also turning to look at him. Her face is flushed, sweat at her temples. Harry wants to lick it.

“We’re all heading out,” he says, seeming apologetic. He should, Harry thinks. She’ll yell at him in the morning.

“Hmm,” Harry hums, rucking Louis’ shirt up and rubbing her thumbs in circles over the exposed skin. “Okay, we’re coming.”

Harry watches Liam walk away and turns back to Louis who has turned to face her. Her hair is wet and sticking to the sides of her face. Harry can’t explain why she finds that so attractive. Before she does or says something dumb, she grabs Louis’ hands and just pulls her out of the bar to where their friends are waiting.

Niall lives in the opposite direction of them all, on the other side of campus, so he breaks off from the group. As they say their goodbyes, Harry makes a note to tell Liam to invite him around again. He has seemed nice enough, laughing at all of their jokes.  

The four of them walk home together, Louis and Zayn stumbling into each other, being the drunkest of the group. Harry and Liam are sober, guiding their friends in the direction of their apartments.

“Do you think they’re good enough to stay alone tonight?” Liam asks Harry, face scrunching as he watches Zayn trip over his own feet.

“I think Louis definitely is,” Harry answers quietly. “She seems more drunk when spurred on by Zayn. Like a placebo effect, or something. Zayn probably would be fine by himself, too. He’d probably go straight to sleep.”

“But together, they’re going to cause chaos,” Liam finishes for her. They’re just a couple of minutes from their apartment and about five from Zayn and Louis’. “It doesn’t seem worth it to walk the extra distance and back if they could just crash with us. Zayn can stay in my bed, Louis can have the couch.”

Harry nods slowly. “Louis can just stay in my room, no big deal.”

Liam makes a noise, one that Harry can’t quite figure out. Before she can question him any further, they’ve reached their apartment building. Zayn and Louis keep on walking for a few steps before Zayn notices Liam isn’t right behind him any longer.

“Li?” Zayn asks in the most adorable fashion, eyebrows furrowing together as he pouts. “Aren’t we going home?”

“Want to stay at my place, babe?” Liam asks, reaching out his hand. Zayn comes back easily, grabbing onto Liam’s hand. Harry tries not to be jealous of how easily they’ve fallen into each other. Louis stands awkwardly to the side, watching the whole scene.

“Lou, come on,” Harry says, holding open the door. Zayn and Liam head in first, giggling about something. Louis blinks slowly, a smile slowly forming on her face. “Let’s go to bed, babe.”

“Yeah, okay,” she says, words slow and concise. She seems anything but drunk now.

Harry lets her borrow a toothbrush and they brush their teeth together, making faces at each other in the mirror. It all feels achingly domestic, and Harry can’t help the way her heart soars. She wants this every night with Louis.

Back in Harry’s bedroom, she digs around for clothes for Louis to sleep in. The girl isn’t that much shorter than her, but she is curvier than Harry which can make bottoms kind of an awkward fit.

“You can just give me a t-shirt,” Louis says softly from behind her. Harry turns around, eyebrow raised.

“Are you going to sleep in your jeans?” she teases.

“No.” Louis shakes her head. Without breaking eye contact, she undoes her jeans and slides them down her legs. She stands there in her tight, black tank top and dark purple underwear. They’re nothing fancy or particularly sexy, but Harry still forgets how to breathe. “I get too hot when I wear pants to bed.”

Harry swallows, sure Louis can hear it all the way across the room. “Of course. Makes sense.” She turns around without saying anything else and goes back to finding Louis a shirt to wear. When she turns back to Louis, one of her favorite black t-shirts in her hand, Louis has taken her tank top off, standing there in her matching dark purple bralette. Harry can’t help the way she chokes this time.

Louis smirks as if she knows exactly what she’s doing, walking over and taking the shirt from Harry’s hand. “Thanks, babe.”

She even makes that sound sexy. Honestly, Harry would probably find anything she says sexy in this moment.

Harry can only find it in herself to nod, staring dumbly.

“Are _you_ going to sleep in your jeans?” Louis teases, throwing the shirt over herself. She unclasps the bra from underneath, sliding it out. Harry doesn’t want to think about it.

“Um,” she stammers. “No. No I am not.”

Two can play whatever game Louis is playing (although, Louis still plays it better). Harry slides her jeans down her legs slowly, taking her time. Partly she does it to be sexy, but she also doesn’t want to trip over herself as she undresses. She’s been known to do that. Without looking up at Louis, she unbuttons her blouse, taking her time. As she gets to the last button and begins sliding it off of her shoulders, she finally looks up and makes eye contact with Louis. She wants to see Louis’ face when she realizes Harry isn’t wearing a bra.

Harry’s got too small of boobs, she never bothers. Tonight, she sends a ‘thank you’ to her past self who had chosen to go without.

As the button up drops the floor, Louis’ eyes widen, mouth parting slightly. Harry fights the urge to cover herself as Louis stares, unashamed. Harry wonders what they’re doing, what kind of game Louis is trying to play.

Harry stands there for a few seconds longer before she pulls a grey shirt on over her head, climbing into bed and rolling onto her side without saying another word. Louis stands at the end of the bed for a moment longer before she follows suit.

Harry doesn’t expect Louis to come up behind her and wrap an arm around her waist. She starts a little, heart racing. She really doesn’t understand whatever game of gay chicken they’re playing now. Harry doesn’t say anything but is breathing audibly in the room, shaking on every exhale. Louis is warm pressed against her back, breath tickling the back of her neck.

Just when she doesn’t think she can take it any longer, Louis is rolling her over onto her back with the arm wrapped around her waist and climbing onto Harry’s hips. Harry stops breathing altogether, feeling Louis’ bare thighs wrapped around her and the warmth of her crotch against her.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Louis admits, faltering in her confidence for the first time all night. “I just can’t stop myself.”

“I don’t want you to.” Harry doesn’t know where the confidence she feels comes from.

Louis doesn’t seem to mind, though, leaning down and pressing their lips together hesitantly. Her hair hangs down like a curtain around them, as if protecting them from the outside world.

Louis’ lips are soft but firm against Harry’s own. She presses with just the right amount of force, lips slotting between Harry’s. It’s soft and tender, with Harry stroking up and down Louis’ thighs with her hands. Harry can feel goosebumps forming underneath her palms.

Eventually, Louis opens her mouth hesitantly, almost as if asking for permission. Harry feels like she should be the one who’s hesitant, afraid of overstepping the boundaries Louis has. When Harry opens her mouth in approval, Louis seems to gain confidence, sweeping her tongue in. Harry pauses her movements with her hands, instead grabbing a handful of Louis’ thighs tightly. Louis gasps, opening her mouth wider and Harry dives in.

It quickly becomes dirty, both of them just gasping into each other’s open mouths, tongues running against each other. Harry is groping Louis’ thighs, unsure of a time where she’ll get to do this again. Louis has one hand propping herself up but uses the other hand to grab ahold of Harry’s hair, tugging lightly. Harry moans loudly, pulling away from Louis’ lips and panting. Louis gives another tug and Harry’s eyes roll back. It’s her biggest weakness, having her hair pulled, and it’s only made hotter by the fact that it’s Louis doing it.

Louis keeps pulling at Harry’s hair, first tentative, but gaining confidence with each moan that Harry elicits. Harry starts bucking her hips up, using her grip on Louis’ thighs to grind the both of them together.

“God, Harry, you’re so gone for it,” Louis says, sitting back, removing her hand from Harry’s hair. Harry doesn’t even time to complain before Louis is adjusting their position, sliding a thigh in between Harry’s. Her pussy is now sitting directly on Harry’s thigh and it’s almost too much. Even through her underwear, Harry can feel the heat and how wet she is. It only turns Harry on more, feeling that Louis wants this too.

Harry slides her hands up to Louis’ hips. Harry uses her new grip to pull Louis forward, rolling her hips and watching Louis gasp.

“Lou, is this okay?” Harry asks, continuing to slide Louis back and forth.

“Yes, God, Harry, _yes_.” Louis sounds just as gone as Harry feels, head tilted back and exposing her neck. Harry can’t help herself, scooting so she’s now sitting up, leaning back against her headboard. Louis slides closer, if possible, looking absolutely wrecked. Harry leans and kisses at Louis’ neck, biting lightly. Kissing down her neck to her collarbone, Harry bites harder and sucks a bruise, soothing it with a lick.

“Can I touch you?”

Harry pulls back, making eye contact with Louis. “Of course. Only if you want to.”

Louis nods, tangling another hand into Harry’s hair. She gives it a tug and Harry is back to panting, completely under Louis’ control again. Louis takes her free hand and slides it up Harry’s shirt, cupping at her boob. She starts out unsure, just as she has the whole night, but gains confidence listening to Harry’s moans. Harry moans particularly loud when Louis pinches her nipple, rolling it between her fingers.

Louis develops a cheeky grin, reaching down to bite at Harry’s neck as she pulls her hair and pinches at her nipple simultaneously. Harry is going into sensory overload. Harry uses her hands to roll Louis’ hips again, listening to Louis’ high-pitched whine as Harry’s thigh presses against her. Louis’ knee is adding just enough pressure against Harry’s pussy that it’s not going to take much for her to come, especially considering that Louis is the one doing this to her.

“God, you’re so hot right now, Harry,” Louis says, almost like she doesn’t mean to. “Can you feel what you’re doing to me? How wet I am?”

Harry doesn’t answer and Louis pulls her hair in return. “Oh, you’re so gone. _Fuck_. I think I’m going to come soon. Are you close, baby?”

Louis doesn’t give Harry a chance to respond, giving her hair a particularly hard tug and rolling her nipple, swiveling her hips and grinding harder against Harry. Harry curses, moaning and coming, hips stuttering and pulling Louis tighter against her.

Louis just watches Harry, stilling her motions.

“Oh, fuck. That was so hot, oh my god.” She’s rambling now, grinding herself down against Harry’s thigh. Harry pulls herself together enough to slide her hands up underneath Louis’ shirt and pinch at her nipples. This is enough for Louis. She comes loudly, eyes rolling as she continues grinding. Her orgasm seems to last forever, until she’s whimpering as she slows her hips.

Harry can’t believe she’s just seen that. Harry can’t believe she’s just _caused_ that.

Louis breathes heavily, leaning back. The collar on her borrowed shirt shows off the hickey Harry gave her, as her chest heaves up and down. Collecting herself, she gives Harry a peck on the lips and climbs off of her lap.

“That was, um, incredible,” Louis says awkwardly. She’s back to being unsure. “Is it always like that for you?” She’s laying on her back, staring at the ceiling.

“No,” Harry tells her honestly. “It’s never like that.”

Louis doesn’t say anything and Harry wonders if she’s fallen asleep.

“Please still be here in the morning,” Harry begs quietly, before she loses the confidence, hoping Louis hasn’t fallen asleep yet. “I don’t know if I can handle it if I lose you over this.”

Louis reaches out and finds her hand, giving it a squeeze. “Of course. Always.”

*

Harry had been dumb to think things wouldn’t change, even after Louis promised.

She’s been awake for all of fifteen minutes, maybe less, and she’s already freaking out. Louis is still sleeping peacefully next to her, curled up into herself and snoring lightly. Harry is almost too anxious to appreciate it. _Almost_.

Just as she’s figuring out how to sneak out of her own apartment without it being weird, Louis stirs, rolling over so she’s facing Harry. Her eyes slowly blink over and she stares into Harry’s eyes, looking adorably confused. Harry definitely looks like a deer caught in headlights.

Harry winces, preparing for Louis to start yelling.

Instead, she just asks for aspirin.

Harry doesn’t wait around for her to say anything else, crawling out of bed in search of some aspirin. She heads towards the bathroom, hoping they’ve got a bottle in there.

Unfortunately, she runs into Liam in the hallway. He’s got only his boxers on, looking sleep rumpled. She hopes that he’s too sleepy to say anything about why _she_ is also only in her underwear, but Harry’s never been too lucky.

He calls out her name as she’s stepping into the bathroom, trying her best to pretend that absolutely nothing weird is going on. Liam’s never bought into her shit and he isn’t starting now, apparently.

“Harry, who gave you that huge ass bruise on your neck?”

She turns around, hoping her facial expression appears innocent. She touches a hand to her neck, not even aware that Louis had given her a hickey last night. “Would you believe me if I tell you I ran into something?”

“No,” he says, but nothing else. He definitely doesn’t believe her, but he also must decide that it’s too early to talk about it. With one last sigh and eye roll, Liam walks back into his room, presumably where Zayn is still in there asleep. Harry quickly finds the aspirin Louis had requested and goes back to her own room.

When she opens the door to her room, Louis is pulling on her pants. Harry feels exposed now, still in just her underwear and her t-shirt.

“Um,” she says awkwardly, standing in the doorway. “Here’s the aspirin.”

Louis looks up from where she’s buttoning her jeans and smiles tightly. “Thanks.” She makes no move to grab the bottle from Harry’s hands.

“I’m sorry.”

Louis winces at Harry’s words, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“If you say so.” The air in the room is thick and Harry kind of feels like crying. She’s never wanted her time with Louis to end, but now she finds she can’t wait until Louis is gone. She just wants to be alone to reflect on how she could be so dumb. She wants to have time to think about how she couldn’t control herself for just one night, just couldn’t handle it.

“I have to go,” is all Louis says in return. She keeps Harry’s shirt on, though. She brushes past Harry on her way to the door, body tensing as their shoulder’s graze.

“I figured,” Harry says, but Louis doesn’t even falter, just continuing to walk down the hallway. She also runs into Liam, but their conversation is even shorter than the one he and Harry had. She’s gone before Harry can even process it.

Liam turns in the hallway towards Harry’s room, two cups of coffee in his hands. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Nothing to talk about.” Harry knows she’s just being dumb. Liam is the one person in the world who wouldn’t judge her for last night. He had basically done the same thing with Zayn, even though the situations were different in their own ways.

“Didn’t seem like nothing when I heard it last night,” Liam comments, one eyebrow raised. “The matching hickies you guys have don’t really seem like nothing, either.”

Harry shrugs, wishing she could shrink into herself. She should talk to him about it. She should ask him what she can do to just _move on_. Her crush on Louis has officially gone too far. She’s crossed a line and they can’t ever go back.

“Talk later?” Harry finally asks, voice sounding as small as she feels. Liam, to his credit, just nods and goes back into his room. How he manages to just always be there, without even trying, Harry will never understand. He’s always just been there, both physically and emotionally, and Harry couldn’t be more grateful.

Harry finally closes her bedroom door, collapsing on the bed on top of her jumbled covers. The tears she had to fight to hold back earlier don’t come now. She feels more tired than anything else. She’s been holding on to this (toxic) idea that maybe Louis was gay, could maybe be into Harry. Now that illusion has shattered and Harry can’t feel anything but tired.

She’s on the brink of falling back asleep when there’s a light knock on the door. Harry doesn’t get a chance to answer before Liam is coming in, a bag in one of his hands, holding to-go coffee mugs. She scoots over to one side of her bed, giving him space to climb in next to her.

He sets the cups down on her nightstand, kicking off his shoes and sending them flying over the room before he plops down ungracefully next to her. She can’t help the smile that breaks out across her face. Liam has always just been someone who could cheer her up without making any effort to do so.

“What’s in the bag?” she asks curiously. It’s just a plain plastic bag, a red ‘thank you’ printed on it. She hopes it’s food.

“I grabbed Chinese from your favorite place down the street,” he answers her, pulling out the Styrofoam boxes and fortune cookies. “I also grabbed hot chocolate from that one overpriced local coffee place. I know you love it.”

Harry finally does cry, face wrinkling as she bursts into a heavy sob. Liam sets down the boxes and pulls her into a tight hug, holding her as sobs shake her body. Harry knows she’s getting snot and last night’s makeup on his shirt, but neither of them seem to care. He just holds her as tight as he can, kissing the top of her head and rubbing his palms up and down her back. She doesn’t deserve him.

“God, I just,” Harry tries to start saying, but another sob takes over her.

“Harry, just cry,” Liam shushes her, rocking them now. “We can talk later. Cry first.”

Harry nods, letting out a particularly loud cry, a snot bubble bursting. Liam reaches for a tissue and hands it to her wordlessly.

She isn’t sure how long she cries, pressed against Liam. Eventually, her tears dry out and she’s just sniffling into his shirt. Her body is cramped from being in this position for so long, so she wonder how Liam feels.

Harry pulls away, accepting another tissue to blow her nose loudly into. She laughs despite finding no humor in the whole situation.

“Feeling better?” Liam asks timidly.

“Not really,” she answers honestly. “I think I’m just out of tears. Now pass me the fried rice.”

“Are you going to talk to me about it?”

Harry rolls her eyes. “If I must.”

Liam just rolls his eyes right back at her, throwing a packet of soy sauce at her face. “Don’t be a dickhead.”

“Hmmph,” Harry snorts, dumping the soy sauce onto her rice. It’s probably a bad idea to eat Chinese food with white sheets, but Harry is all out of fucks to give. She doubts she’d even be upset if she spilled soy sauce everywhere. “Normally I’m the one calling _you_ a dickhead.”

“Well, the tables have turned,” Liam replies, struggling with his chopsticks.

“Why do you even bother with those? It’s just the two of us, use a damn fork,” Harry says, plucking the chopsticks from his fingers. She passes him a plastic fork the restaurant had put in the bag for them to use. “You’ve got no one to impress here.”

Liam makes some kind of noise in his throat, maybe to protest, but thinks better of it and just stabs his chicken with the plastic fork. He doesn’t look pleased, but Harry can’t find herself to care about that either.

They eat in silence for a few moments before Liam speaks again. “It’s funny, this situation was reversed just a few months ago, you know? Not even just you comforting me, but also I was in Louis’ position and you were in Zayn’s.”

Harry chews, taking a moment to process what he’s just said. “It’s a little bit different.”

“How so?” Liam inquires. He doesn’t look up at her, digging into his rice.

“You love Zayn. Louis doesn’t love me.”

The room stays quiet after that, both of them eating their food in silence.

*

Things go relatively back to the way they were, after that. Louis is, at first, cautious around Harry, but eventually turns back into her tactile self. Harry has no idea if she told Zayn or not, but assumes he knows from the pitying looks he always gives Harry.

Louis had avoided Harry at first, not swinging by the coffee shop during Harry’s shifts and missing game night for a few weeks. After a few weeks had gone by, Louis had come in asking for some lavender tea. It must have been an extension of an olive branch because since then, Louis has been all over Harry again.

Harry isn’t quite sure what to think.

She brings it up finally, to Liam, one night while they’re making cupcakes together in their kitchen. Zayn is coming over in about an hour, so this is her prime opportunity for her to talk about it.

“Should I talk to Louis?” Harry asks, trying to seem casual as she ices the batch of cupcakes that has cooled down. Liam, she notices, is also trying to seem casual. In the weeks since the event, Harry hadn’t brought the topic up herself, instead pretending that it had never happened. He likely didn’t want to scare her away or make her revert back into herself.

“If you want,” Liam responds, taking off the oven mitts and leaning against the counter. He crosses his arms over his chest, looking at her expectantly.

“I just,” she begins, unsure of herself, “didn’t know if I should finally ask her what the fuck was up, is all.”

Liam snorts. “Eloquent.”

“Think I should say it just like that?”

“That’ll open it right up to an adult conversation,” he deadpans, coming over and taking the icing knife from her hand, giving it a lick. Harry wrinkles her nose at him.

“I think I’m going to text her, see if I can come over,” she says, voice revealing her nerves.

Liam’s face softens. “I think you should. I know she doesn’t necessarily know you’re in love with her, but you need to make some closure for yourself, I think.”

Harry wants to flick him in the nose. “I guess. I don’t want to go over there with the idea that I’m going to get closure. I think I just want to make sure it won’t happen again and that everything is okay. Like, yeah, we’re _acting_ like everything is okay, but is it really?”

Before Liam can respond, Zayn is walking in through the front door, smiling wide. His smile falters when he sees Harry sitting there, pitying like it has been for the past few weeks. Harry can’t stand that look, so she rolls her eyes and excuses herself to her bedroom.

When she gets back into her room, she grabs her phone with the full intent of texting Louis, but she notices she’s already got a text from the girl.

_Wine night? Xoxo_

Harry should say no. Harry should _definitely_ say no. She should decline the wine. They should have an adult, mature discussion. She should get her closure. She should find some relief for her anxiety.

_Be over in five xx_

Harry has never been good at saying no, especially not to Louis.

She sneaks out of the apartment, sliding through the kitchen without saying a word to Liam and Zayn, feeling like a teenager living at home again. She doesn’t want to answer any questions about where she’s going. Zayn will just look at her with those “oh honey, no” eyes and she’s never been good at lying to Liam. They don’t try to stop her as she walks past, too wrapped up in their own bubble.

Harry envies them, how easily it has come to them. Yeah, Liam had been a dumbass for a while, but it had worked out in the end. Harry worries she’s not going to get such a happy ending, that she’ll be hanging onto Louis forever. Harry’s the one being the dumbass between her and Louis, unfairly expecting Louis to one day just change her sexuality and fall in love with her.

It’s a quick walk to Louis and Zayn’s apartment, only a couple of minutes. She’s there quicker than she’d like, not having enough time to calm her nerves. Louis buzzes her in and Harry climbs the stairs slowly, like she’s going to her death.

Louis opens the door before Harry even gets a chance to knock, throwing it open and shoving a glass of wine towards Harry. Harry takes it, some of it spilling onto the floor around them. Louis doesn’t seem to mind, instead pulling Harry inside and shutting the door louder than necessary.

“You’re drunk,” Harry points out. Her nerves fade away as she watches Louis dance around with amusement. There’s quiet pop music playing the background, and she’s set out the stuff necessary to make brownies.

“Not quite,” Louis responds with a shrug. “You do have some catching up to do, though.”

Harry takes a sip from the wine glass in her hand, trying her best to hide her smile. “This seems dangerous, baking while tipsy.”

“Well, we should get started on it then, before we’re absolutely uselessly drunk,” is all Louis says in return. Harry throws her head back and laughs, feeling as light as she had in weeks. Maybe all she needed was one on one time with Louis for things to feel normal again. “I’ve had a rough week, I need this girl’s night.”

Harry’s smile starts to slip from her face. “Oh, yeah. You had that date with Stan this week, right?”

Louis shakes her head. “No, I cancelled it.”

Harry doesn’t think she’s supposed to be happy at that, smile reappearing on her face. “Why?”

Louis bites her lip, avoiding eye contact. She looks like she’s trying to bite back a smile as well. “Just didn’t feel right.”

Harry just hums in response, finishing off her first glass and pouring herself another. It’s cheap and absolutely disgusting, but Harry doesn’t mind. It’s enough to be drinking it with Louis, to be in the moment.

They don’t talk much after that, getting to work on making the brownies. Louis is absolutely awful, dropping eggshells into the mix and distracting Harry so she can lick the spoon. Harry pretends to be mad, but finds it more adorable than anything. Louis looks cuddly, wearing an oversized shirt and athletic shorts, hair thrown up into a lopsided bun. Harry always loves how Louis looks, but can’t help but decide that this version of Louis is her favorite.

“You’ve got a little chocolate on your face, Lou,” Harry points out, giggling quietly. Louis wipes at her face with a hand towel and rests it on the counter beside her. She’d climbed up to sit on the counter about half an hour ago, giving up on pretending to help after she spilled vegetable oil all over the floor.

“Did I get it?” she asks, turning her face towards Harry. Harry places the brownies into the oven and stands up, giving her a look.

She shakes her head, “No, it’s on like, the corner of your mouth.”

Louis’ tongue darts out, wiping at the right side of her mouth. “How about now?”

“Other side.”

“Why don’t you come and help me?” Louis giggles, wiggling her eyebrows. She’s only about three glasses of wine in, but she’s apparently at the flirty stage of being drunk.

Harry swallows. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Louis’ grin widens. “I think it is.”

She reaches out with both hands, making a grab for Harry’s shirt. Once she grabs ahold, she pulls Harry in between her legs. She locks Harry in by wrapping her legs around her waist, gripping tightly. Harry should definitely stop this, but that’s the last thing she wants to do.

“Harry, will you please help me?” Louis asks, innocent enough. Her cheeky smile has fallen from her face, eyes serious.

Harry swipes her thumb against the corner of Louis’ mouth, wiping away the chocolate smudged there. She goes to back away, but Louis’ feet are still digging into her lower back, holding her close.

“Thank you,” Louis whispers, her words blowing across Harry’s face, tickling her skin.

“Uh, yeah,” Harry stutters, “no problem.”

“Will you kiss me?”

Harry pauses for a moment, weighing her options. She needs to set boundaries with Louis, let her know that Harry won’t keep doing this. But that’s the last thing she wants to do, when she’s got Louis’ legs wrapped around her and she’s asking so nicely.

Harry nods and that’s all Louis needs before she’s leaning in, pressing her lips hesitantly against Harry’s. It’s softer than Harry remembers, their lips gentle against one another.

Harry can’t describe in any other word than _loving_. It’s a loving kiss, no urgency behind it. She wishes this could have been their first kiss, instead.

Louis seems content to just lazily kiss Harry, legs wrapped around her waist, hands resting on her shoulders. Harry’s got both her hands atop Louis’ hips, rubbing soothing circles over her shirt.

Harry could kiss Louis like this all day long, ignoring everything else in the world. Kissing Louis like this, sweet and slow and lazy, makes Harry forget that Louis is straight. She’s lost in the moment.

The moment is broken, however, when Zayn comes into the room, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

“Hi, I am _so_ sorry to interrupt,” he says, voice heavy with sarcasm. He definitely doesn’t sound sorry.

Louis and Harry break apart, Harry’s face breaking out into a blush. Louis doesn’t seem embarrassed, though, smiling widely in the direction of Zayn.

“What’s up?” she asks, voice steady. Harry wonders how she can sound so put together. “Need something?”

“No, Liam’s mom called him, so I thought I’d come home,” he explains. “They’ll talk for hours.”

“Oh, gotcha,” Louis responds, smiling brightly. Harry senses some tension in the room. She’d back away, excuse herself, but Louis still has her legs wrapped around Harry’s waist. She’s locked in.

“What are you guys up to?” Zayn asks, like he already knows the answer. Harry is starting to feel anxious, palms sweating. She’d like nothing more than to remove herself from this narrative, to retreat back to her apartment. She doesn’t like the way Zayn and Louis are eyeing each other.

“Making brownies,” Louis answers, eyes narrowing. “They’re almost done. I can bring you one when they’re cooled down?”

Zayn pauses before he answers, “Fine.” He turns and leaves the room, a thickness in the air still present even in his absence.

“Sorry about that,” Louis apologizes, turning back to face Harry. She runs one of her hands through Harry’s hair gently.

“I should go,” Harry blurts out, shocking Louis enough that she can break out of her legs, scrambling across to the other side of the kitchen. “I, uh, forgot I promised Liam I would make dinner with him.” She doesn’t wait for Louis to respond before she’s running down the hallway to the front door, cursing herself for being so awkward all of the time.

“Harry!” Louis calls after her, but Harry isn’t planning on turning around. As she shuts the door behind her, she hears Louis yell, “It’s like nine at night!”

She could have used a better excuse than dinner, probably.

Harry walks as fast she can, aggressively swinging her front door open once she’s got it unlocked. She stomps her feet down the hallway, coming into their kitchen area. Liam is still on the phone with his mother, but now staring concerned at Harry.

“Mom, I love you, but Harry just got home and I’ve got to deal with her,” he says into the phone. He pauses for a moment, listening to her reply, before he’s giving kisses into the phone and hanging up. “What the _fuck_ , Harry?”

“We can’t be friends with Louis and Zayn anymore,” Harry says instead of explaining. Liam’s expression goes from the tiniest bit angry to more firm, eyebrows straightening and jaw tightening.

“That’s a practical solution,” he deadpans, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against their counter.

“I thought so too.”

“Harry, did you go over and talk to Louis?” he asks.

“Well, I went over there with the _intention_ of talking to Louis,” she says. She can see the disappointment setting in his face.

“And what happened instead?”

“We kissed.”

He throws his hands up in exasperation, blowing loudly out of his mouth.

“You can do nothing right!” he exclaims. “Anything else? Any new hickies?”

“Uh,” she stutters, wincing as she prepares for the worst. “Zayn saw? Is that bad, you think?”

“Zayn interrupted you?” Liam asks, as if Harry has been unclear.

“Yes.” She nods, watching his expression change. “I’m unsure how you’re feeling at this moment. Do you need space?”

Liam shakes his head. His shoulders slump and Harry can see the fight leaving him. “So no matching hickies this time?”

Harry approaches him nervously. “Nope, it was all very PG.”

Liam hums in his throat.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asks him. She hates when he gets all cryptic. He’s always got something to say until she needs him to actually say something.

He shrugs his shoulders, saying, “Maybe Louis isn’t straight.”

*

Harry doesn’t see Louis for a few days after their kiss in Louis’ kitchen. She doesn’t feel like she’s being avoided, just that they haven’t had the time to hang out. Louis has sent her plenty of text messages, most of them complaining about the people in her classes. She figures if Louis was mad at her, or uncomfortable, she wouldn’t be texting Harry.

Harry’s working a double on a Saturday, covering for Zayn so he can take Liam on a date for their anniversary, when Louis comes in. It’s starting to get cold outside, air a bit nippy, and it shows on Louis’ face. Her cheeks are adorably pink and hair tangled from the biting wind. Harry can’t help the wide smile that breaks across her face when Louis walks in.

Louis breaks out in an equally wide grin, stepping up to the counter. There’s no one else in the shop, and Harry has been left alone to close. No one’s coming to study and buy coffee on Saturday at seven pm, unless they’re crazy.

“Lavender tea?” Harry asks, grabbing a cup. It’s habit now, to write Louis’ name on the cup, as if she could ever forget who Louis is. Sometimes she scribbles a misshapen heart on there as well.

“Um, no,” Louis replies, rubbing her hands together to warm them up. “I was just stopping by on my way home. I was thinking of you and thought I’d come say hi.”

Harry blushes at her words, biting her lip shyly. “Wait, really?”

“Yes, is that really so hard to believe?” Louis rolls her eyes playfully. “I enjoy your presence. I haven’t seen you in a while, though. Missed you.”

Harry wants to spin in circles around the room. Louis’ words swell up in her chest, causing a beaming smile to spread, feeling as if it might split her face. “I missed you too.” She can’t hide the emotion between the words, how true they are.

“Can we please hang out again? Just the two of us,” she asks, batting her eyelashes playfully.

“Of course, when are you free?” Harry hopes her voice doesn’t give away how excited she feels. She feels like she’s vibrating.

“Tonight, if you’re up for it after you close?” If Harry weren’t paying attention, if she didn’t know Louis so well, she’d never have picked up on how Louis’ voice trembles slightly, as if she’s nervous.

Harry’s smile softens, more fond than anything at this point. “I would love that. Movie night at my place?”

Louis nods, cheeks still red. Harry wonders if it’s because she’s blushing. “Text me when you’re home and don’t smell.”

She turns to leave, giggling quietly.

“I don’t smell!” Harry calls after her retreating figure, listening to Louis’ bell-like laugh fade as the door shuts behind her. Her smile doesn’t fade away for the rest of her shift, excitement at spending time with Louis pushing her to get her closing work done faster.

When she finally closes up the coffee shop, she has to stop herself from actually running home. It’s not too long of a walk, despite the cold and the excitement at coming home to Louis making the journey seem longer. She lets herself into her apartment, heading straight to her room. She doesn’t expect Liam to come home tonight.

Harry decides she should probably shower before Louis comes over because _what if she does stink_? She waits for the temperature to warm up, selecting her favorite relaxing playlist to listen to. Normally, Liam complains and Harry has to listen to her music quietly, but Liam isn’t home so she finally gets to listen as loud as she wants.

She showers quickly, singing along to her favorite songs. She’s still humming as she walks down the hallway to her room, wrapped in a towel. Opening her door, she’s shocked to find Louis laying down, scrolling through her phone.

“Oh!” she exclaims, pulling her towel tighter to her chest. “When did you get here?”

“Liam and Zayn came home and wanted the place to themselves,” Louis explains casually, as if Harry isn’t standing there basically naked across the room. “I figured you wouldn’t mind. Do you mind?”

Harry shakes her head. “Not at all. You’re always welcome.”

“Plus,” Louis adds, “I got a wonderful show since I came early.”

Harry sputters, mouth open. She gapes at Louis for a few seconds before she decides maybe it’s finally time to sit Louis down and talk to her. Collecting herself she says, “Louis, we should talk.”

Louis looks surprised, like she hadn’t expected Harry to ever bring it up. “About what?”

“Whatever’s going on here,” Harry explains. “I don’t want to be in the dark about it any longer.”

Louis sits up, placing her phone on the nightstand. She past the bed beside her, motioning for Harry to sit down next to her. “What do you think is happening here?”

“I don’t _know_ ,” Harry says honestly. Instead of sitting on the bed, she goes over to her drawers to pull out a pair of pajama shorts and a grey t shirt. She notices Louis is dressed similarly, black running shorts and a black t shirt, which Harry has a sneaking suspicion is her own from the last time Louis was in her room. “That’s what’s so frustrating.”

After Harry dresses herself, careful to stay covered in her towel until she’s got on her clothes, she joins Louis on the bed. Louis hums quietly, thinking over her words. “I don’t really know either. I’ve been talking to Liam and Zayn about it. They both think I’m a dumbass. And a dickhead.”

Harry snorts. “You are, a little.”

“Thanks,” Louis says, but there’s amusement in her voice.

“What have you guys been talking about?” Harry asks, curious as to why Liam’s never mentioned this before.

“How I’m so similar to Liam,” Louis answers. “How I can be dense. How I’m in love with you. How I’ve probably been in love with you for a long time, and it took me forever to see it.”

Harry feels like she can’t breathe. “Isn’t that something,” she mumbles, chest feeling tight.

“Are you okay?”

Harry looks up to see Louis staring at her intently, concern written on her face. Harry doesn’t know why she feels like this, when this is exactly what she’d been looking for this whole time. She’d wanted this, wanted Louis to fall in love with her.

“Do you feel like I pressured you into feeling like this?” Harry answers Louis’ question with another question. “Like, if we spent some time apart you would realize that you don’t actually feel like this way about me. That you’re just lonely.”

Louis looks like she’s been slapped across the face. “It’s a bit rude to assume that you understand how I’m feeling better than me, yeah?”

Harry immediately regrets saying anything. “That’s not what I meant! I just, I uh. I felt like maybe I pushed too much.”

“Harry, you dumb lesbian,” Louis chuckles. “I think I’ve been in love with you since we met. I’ve just never met _anyone_ , girl or boy, who makes me feel how you do. I can’t get enough of you.”

“It just feels surreal,” Harry says honestly. “I’ve been wanting this for months now. Like, the whole semester. You walked in and asked for tea and I’ve been gone for you since.”

“Well, we’re on the same page now.” Louis shifts her body to face Harry, timidly reaching a hand out to run through Harry’s hair. When Harry doesn’t immediately recoil, Louis keeps doing it, playing with the curls. Harry has found her happiness, sitting in her bed as the girl she’s in love with plays with her hair.

Eventually they shift from sitting into laying down, legs tangled with one another as they talk about their days. Harry could listen to Louis talk forever, going on and on about the assholes in her childhood development classes.

“I can’t believe these are the people who want to teach children,” she says, voice rising with each word. Harry never wants her to shut up. “That these people want to shape our future. No way, I will not let that happen. I’m going to have to convince them to switch to like, communications or something. They are not shaping young children’s minds under my watch.”

Harry snorts, playing with the hem of Louis’ shirt. It’s risen an inch or so, exposing her tanned hip. Harry wonders if she uses self-tanner or if she’s naturally this golden.  “You’re going to do that all by yourself?” she teases.

“No, of course not,” Louis replies. “You’re going to help me.”

“Obviously,” Harry deadpans, rolling her eyes.

“You’re my trusty sidekick, forever and always,” Louis says, as if it’s the simplest and easiest thing in the world.

“Forever and always?” Harry tries to make her voice light, give the implication of teasing, but fails. It’s obvious in the way her voice catches that Louis’ words have an effect on her.

“Mhm,” Louis hums. “Forever and ever. You’re stuck with me. I’m gonna be real sappy, all the time. Gonna shower you in gifts.” She scoots closer to Harry as she speaks, slowly as if not to startle Harry.

“I never knew you were the romantic type,” Harry muses. “It’s kind of hot.”

Louis does a small laugh at that, snort coming out of her nose. “The idea of me being your sugar daddy turns you on?”

“No, you dense fucker,” Harry says with an eye roll. “The idea that you want to shower me with love, and stuff. God, you ruin everything.” Harry smiles to let Louis know she’s kidding. Louis reaches out and flicks her nose.

“I want to shower you with all the love,” Louis says, voice gone serious. Harry’s breath catches, looking into Louis’ eyes and seeing that she means every word. Louis finally pulls their bodies flush against each other, legs still tangled and arm thrown around Harry’s waist. “I wasted too much time being a dumbass to not spoil you with my love as much as I can now.”

“Kiss me, you fool,” Harry says in way of reply, any serious replies failing her.

Louis doesn’t wait another moment, reaching up and pulling Harry in by the back of her head. She presses softly, just as she’s started all of their kisses. Harry isn’t going to wait for her this time, pressing back firmly. She grips Louis’ waist, pulling her in even tighter.

They kiss with no desire for anything more, lips moving against one another as Harry’s hands dance up and down Louis’ sides. After a few minutes of this, Harry bites against Louis’ lower lip, pulling a gasp from her. Harry slides her tongue in confidently, licking into Louis’ mouth and appreciating the sounds she’s making.

Louis is loud and not ashamed of it, gasping and moaning quietly against Harry’s mouth. Harry is enjoying herself, finding out what parts of Louis’ body are most sensitive as she runs her hands up and down, listening to Louis’s soft gasps. She enjoys every moan that comes from the swipe of their tongues against each other.

Harry grows tired of laying on her side and rolls them over, pressing Louis into the mattress. She breaks their kiss, leaning back onto her knees to spread Louis’ legs apart. Louis watches with hooded eyes, chest heaving up and down as she catches her breath. Harry still can’t believe that she has this effect on Louis, has the ability to make her fall apart so easily.

“You look so good like this,” Harry whispers, running her hands up the inside of Louis’ legs, feeling the smooth skin. She’s freshly shaved, no hint of stubble growing yet. It would have been nice of her to give Harry a heads up. “So ready for it, babe.”

Louis whines, high pitched fisting her hands into the sheets. “So ready for _you_.”

Harry stills her hands on the inside of Louis’ thighs, pressing her fingertips into the skin there. “God, that is the hottest thing you’ve ever said, I think.” She doesn’t give Louis a chance to respond, running her hands up farther, reaching Louis’ waistband. “Can I take these off?”

“Please,” Louis answers, bucking her hips tightly. Harry smirks to herself, gaining confidence. “I want you.”

Harry remembers how good the first time had been, before they were on the same page. When it had been just a casual, drunken hookup. That had been mind blowing in and of itself, but this is a whole new game. They haven’t even done anything yet and both of them are done for. It’s like Louis knows what Harry needs before even she does. Louis understands Harry’s need for validation, confirmation that she isn’t pushing Louis too far.

Harry dips her fingers into the waistband of Louis’ shorts, tugging lightly. Louis lifts her hips so Harry can pull the shorts down her legs, tossing them somewhere on the other side of the room. Harry can’t get her mouth on Louis fast enough, kissing her thighs.

Louis pulls her hands from Harry’s sheets, bringing them to Harry’s hair and tugging lightly. Harry moans, biting into Louis’ thigh, sucking a bruise and licking over it lightly. She does this until she reaches Louis’ panties, lacey and red. Louis definitely knew this was going to happen. Once again, she thinks, it would have been nice to have some notice.

She kisses Louis over her underwear, open mouthed and wet. Louis whines again, giving Harry’s hair another tug. Harry smiles against Louis, pressing more open-mouthed kisses before bringing her hands up and pulling Louis’ underwear to the side. She takes a moment to admire Louis, pink and trimmed, before diving in tongue first. Louis moans louder this time, just curling her fingers into Harry’s hair and holding on.

Harry uses one hand to hold Louis’ panties to the side and brings the other up so she can slide a finger into Louis. She pumps her finger slowly, teasingly, listening to Louis fall apart. Louis’ thighs have come up around Harry’s head, her knees resting on Harry’s shoulders. Harry could die happy between Louis’ legs, face pressed into Louis’ pussy.

She sucks on Louis’ clit, moving her tongue in figure eights while her finger pumps, faster now. Louis’ whines are falling at a constant rate from her mouth now, no pause in between them. She falls apart so easily, panting and fisting her hands in Harry’s hair, clenching and uncleaning her fists.

Harry slides another finger in with the first, massaging the inside of Louis, searching. She finds what she’s looking for, pressing firmly every time she brings her fingers up.

“God, fuck,” Louis moans, bucking her hips up, effectively riding Harry’s face. “Never felt so good, _fuck_.” She’s rambling now, nonsense falling from her lips. “I’m gonna come, baby.”

One last suck on her clit, and she’s making true on her promise, coming hard. She holds Harry in place, but Harry wouldn’t move even if she could. She feels Louis pulse against her tongue and clench around her fingers as she rides it out, cursing loudly.

When it’s too much she pushes Harry away, pulling her up and kissing her firmly on the mouth.

“Can taste myself,” Louis mumbles against Harry’s lips, licking fervently. “Bet you taste better.”

“No time to find out,” Harry says urgently. “Gotta get off now. Need your fingers, please.”

Louis smirks, regaining her composure. “Anything for you, love.” She removes her hands from Harry’s hair, sliding them down until she’s palming Harry’s ass through her shorts and then sliding them inside. She slides them to the front, sliding one finger over Harry’s pussy over her underwear.

“Oh, fuck,” Harry whines, bucking her hips into Louis’ hand. “You’ve barely touched me and I know I’m not going to last.”

Louis doesn’t say anything, instead slipping her hand into Harry’s underwear and stroking over her clit lightly, teasingly. “What if this was all you got? If this was all I gave you?”

“Louis, please,” Harry begs. “Need you.”

Louis brushes her finger over Harry’s clit again, still light and teasing. “What if I just don’t give it to you?”

“I’d have to get myself off,” Harry says honestly, dizzy from how much she wants Louis. “Think of you and fuck myself.”

Louis finally dips a finger inside Harry. Harry gasps, leaning her head forward against Louis’ shoulder.

“We should do that sometime,” Louis says, as if she’s making casual conversation and not making Harry fall apart from one finger. “Except maybe I’ll fuck myself and you have to watch and can’t do anything about it.”

Harry’s hips stutter into Louis’ hand as she whines louder. She breathes hotly against Louis’ shoulder. “Fuck, that’s hot. I’d hate it, but that’s hot.” She isn’t sure how she’s still stringing sentences together.

Louis slides in a second finger, using her thumb to brush over Harry’s clit. “This good, baby?”

“Better than,” Harry answers honestly, moving her hips in turn with Louis’ fingers. She pumps in and out, rubbing with just the right amount of pressure with her thumb. She wonders how Louis is this good at it, if this is how she fucks herself. “Definitely not going to last long, not with you talking so filthy.”

“Gonna come for me?” She brings a hand up and tugs on Harry’s hair and that’s all it takes, Harry’s orgasm washing over her intensely. She curses loudly, moaning and bucking into Louis as it rolls over her in waves. Every time she thinks she’s done, another wave crashes over her until she’s all wiped out and falling ungracefully into Louis’ body.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had an orgasm that intense,” Harry mumbles, face mushed against the fabric of Louis’ shirt. Louis giggles, gently brushing her fingers through Harry’s hair, a harsh contrast to how she had been tugging it just moments before.

“Tired, babe?” Louis asks, tracing her other hand up and down Harry’s spine.

“Kind of. Mostly hungry, I think,” she replies. “Didn’t get a chance to eat.”

“Want to go make dinner?”

Harry chuckles, voice lower now that she’s all fucked out. “It’s like, nine at night.”

Harry can imagine the eye roll Louis is probably giving her. “And? You’re hungry, let’s go. Budge up.” She pushes Harry off of her, and rolls off the bed, Harry following suit reluctantly.

That’s how Liam finds them, in their underwear and t-shirts, making boxed macaroni and cheese in the kitchen at nine-thirty on a Saturday night. He comes into the room, greeting both of them hesitantly.

“I thought you were staying the night at Zayn’s?” Harry asks, stirring the noodles in the boiling water.

“Didn’t feel too hot, didn’t want to get him sick,” Liam responds, walking over to the cabinet, reaching for a glass. When he turns back around, he gives Louis a smile before his eyes widen. “Louis, your _thighs_ ,” Liam says, jaw dropping in disbelief.

Harry glances over at Louis, sitting on the counter opposite Harry. There’s bruises lining her thighs, all the way down to the knee. Harry doesn’t remember giving her that many hickies, but it’s all a daze now.

“Mind your business, Liam,” Harry says defensively, turning the timer off as it dings.

“I’m not judging!” he says, though his tone suggests otherwise. “Have you got it all sorted out then?”

Harry whirls around, pointing her spoon at him. “Stop judging. You fucked around forever before you realized you loved Zayn. You have no room for this judgement.”

He throws his hands in the air, backing out of the room. “I can’t win with you!”

She yells at his retreating form, “I’m going to have sex in your bed if you’re not careful with that tone!”

Louis’ laughter fills the kitchen as she says, “Don’t traumatize the poor boy. He’ll think you’re serious.”

Harry scoops her a bowl of mac and cheese, passing it over. “You think we wouldn’t?”

Louis chews carefully. “I suppose we’ve got to christen the whole apartment.”

Harry leans on the counter next to her.

“And christen mine, as well.”

Harry looks at her, laughter almost forcing its way out of her mouth. She forces herself to remain collected as she replies, “It’s what he deserves.”

Louis snorts so hard mac and cheese comes out of her nose and Harry has never been more in love.

**Author's Note:**

> In the wise words of my good friend Oliver, “and they were lesbians for life. Fin.”  
> reblog [the post](http://justgirly1dthings.tumblr.com/post/182797831810/she-says-she-doesnt-love-me-dont-believe-her) if you want :))


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